The Road Most Travelled
by SimonStormcloak
Summary: The travel log of a Dark Elf travelling across Tamriel. This is the record of the wonderful people and fantastic places that he visits.


**Hello everybody! This is a great little idea I had while in the car about a traveller in Morrowind and what he records in his travel log. And so, I present to you; The Road Most Travelled.**

_To the reader of this book;_

_This is my travel log. A journal, of sorts, a diary to record the fascinating people I meet and the wonderful places I go to. This is my first entry. It details an old man I found on the road, his tale, and the peculiarity of it all. I will be making more entries in this as time goes on._

25 First Seed, 3E 301.

Today I decided to make a trip to Balmora in search of some fine new clothes. The rags I wear now used to be of fair quality, but use and travel has worn them down. I've brought along with me around two hundred Septims, enough to stay for a night or two and buy the clothes. Also some food and drinks. Two bottles of Sujamma, three boxes of Netch meat and one stick of homemade Honey Nut Treat, with help from my Nord friend Svenja. I was considering taking a Silt Strider, but decided against it. There are many wonderful things to be found on the road most travelled.

I started from my home in Pelagiad and took the back road. Along the way, I happened upon a certain old mer sitting on a rock by the water. His chin rested on his fist, and he gazed out into the horizon.

He was a Dark Elf, like me, but very old, with a wrinkled and scarred face completed by a grizzled white beard and mane. He had a bluish-green face, greener than most Dark Elves. He was sitting on a rock with his head on his hand, as if pondering.

"Greetings, fellow Dunmer." I opened in Dunmeris, walking up to him. "Are you in need of any assistance?"

He looked up. His eyes were red, filled with sorrow as well as joy. He seemed to have tales to tell.

"No, no," He replied in the native tongue, sighing. "I'm fine, thank you. Just thinking. Remembering."

I took a seat beside him.

"What about?" I asked. Compared to him, I was a child. Black, upswept hair and a young face. I had always had a young face, even for a fifty-one year old Dunmer. This man must have been over a thousand years old. Surely that meant he was very wise.

"Oh, many things." He said. "I have lived a long old life, and I've seen... a few things. Quite a few."

I couldn't help but ask.

"How old are you?"

He looked at me, then gazed off into the distance.

"Oh, I lost track at one thousand fifty three... and that was a while ago. I'm very old now. I'll be dead in a few more decades, maybe. I hope. I long to reach Aetherius someday. Life has grown long, longer than I need. I just pray to the Gods that I go peacefully."

"Well then," I said. "Surely a wise old man such as you must have some tales to tell. In your youth, your prime?"

He looked at me and smiled before once more gazing off.

"Oh yes, I have some stories of my own." He nodded slowly.

"Do tell," I said, leaning forward in my chair. "I have all day."

He then sat up, and turned to me.

"You have any food?" He asked.

"I do." I said, reaching into my travel pack.

"Some Balmora Blue would really do right now..." He gave a short laugh.

"None of that," I said. "Sorry."

"That's okay."

"How about some Netch meat? Or I could go and collect Scrib Jelly?"

"Oh, some Netch meat would be fine, thank you. I especially love the tentacles."

I pulled out a small box containing the Netch meat.

"Tentacles, eh?" I said, handing the box to him. "Not for me."

He opened the box and slowly bit into the meat. After he swallowed he turned to me.

"This is some good meat." He said, smiling. "Now, back to the story. Ah yes, why don't I go from the start? Yes, let's start at... the very beginning, shall we? Dunmer have an astounding memory, you know."

"That is good to know." I said, ignoring the fact he couldn't even remmber his age.

"Alright, what date was it? I can't remember. It was a long time ago. But nevermind.

"I grew up in Suran, not to far from here. Have you ever been to Suran?"

I nodded.

"Good." He said. "Let me tell you my tale."

Suran's a nice Hlaalu market town in the Ascadian Isles, on the eastern coast of Lake Masobi. I grew up in the late Second Era, see, around the time of the Ebonheart pact. There were a lot of Nords around, but even stranger, some Argonians. The race we had used for slave labor was now a valuable part of our army. It made us feel a bit guilty, looking up at the muscular creatures that we had so spit on for centuries. I was never really into politics and all, so I didn't care much when the pact was created, but it was still unusual.

I lived there for a long while, until forty, I believe. At that point I figured my life wasn't going anywhere, so I packed up my things and left. The war had ended by then and the Argonians were back to being slaves. To think that the Nords didn't even care. But I guess they were still recovering.

I travelled around for a while before settling down in the Imperial City, all the way in Cyrodiil. Cyrodiil was a nice place, but no home for a quiet person like me. I moved out after a while, and headed north to Skyrim. I had heard wonderful things about a border town called Bruma and a lush forest city called Falkreath. You see, back then, Falkreath- or, Falkrenth- was part of Cyrodiil. Talks of joining with Skyrim were baseless babble, and never really took off. Well, until then it hadn't. Unfortunately for me, I was robbed by a Highwayman on the road north. He took all my things except for my clothes and my dagger. I kept following the path, and eventually reached Bruma, where I did odd jobs to earn enough money to stay for a week. I wasn't going to go back to Morrowind, not when I was so close to reaching my goal. I figured that Bruma was too cold and saved up for a hike up to Falkrenth. I was quite the athletic type in those days, not the cranky old mer I am now.

Eventually, after two months of begging and hard work, I had enough for a coat and some food to sustain me through the Jeralls. I climbed up the mountains and saw the breathtaking view of northern Cyrodiil. It was then I realized that it truly belonged to Skyrim. Imperial culture had no place in these endless forests. I could just barely espy the town through the trees. Heading down the hills, I walked through the forest for about a day, gawking at the lush plants and forest life. I was accustomed to ash and deadwood, so to see these woods was truly astonishing.

By nightfall I had reached Falkrenth. And I can tell you truly that it was the most beautiful and lively city I had ever seen- even more so than the highly talked about Riften or Imperial City. Instead of rich noblemen prancing around the place drinking fine wine and spitting on beggars, this was a friendly place. The guards were laughing and joking and drinking, not even acknowledging their post, while there were plenty of people walking the streets, being merry and having a good time. It was like a New Life festival, yet it wasn't. The city was brightly lit and I got a glimpse at the Count standing outside his longhouse, talking to some other people. They seemed to be shouting at him, and he was yelling back.

My first stop was the Inn, what was it called... Merryman's Mead, yes, that was it! Although, it's been close to a thousand years since then, so it's probably been renamed. Or maybe not. Anyways, the Inn was my first stop. Walking in, I saw people of all races and ages- well, no children, but twas truly a fantastic sight. It was there I met my first Khajiit. I'd heard of them, yes, but never had I come face to face with one. Well, I should say two. The first I met was a female, Ro'jandra, and her brother, who went by 'Jak'. They were friendly and bought me a couple of drinks. As we talked, we talked about our home. I was fascinated by their tales of deserts and green jungles in Elsweyr, and they were just as interested in Morrowind, the cursed land of ash and rock. The two told me that they were two different breeds of Khajiit. Ro'jandra was a Suthay-Raht. She had a long tail, upright ears, and the face of a lioness. She certainly was beautiful, and this is coming from a Dunmer. Suthay-Rahts are the ones most commonly found in Morrowind, according to her. It made no sense to me, because I hadn't met a cat person in my life. Jak was a Cathay, one of the more common breeds, often found in Skyrim, but especially Cyrodiil. Anyways, we drank all night and they told me that I could find some work in the lumber mill. I asked them if they lived in Falkrenth, but they said they were only staying for a few weeks. I said goodbye and bought a room for myself, and the next morning I headed outside.

That morning, I sensed discontent in the air. The jolly merrymen of the night previous were nowhere to be found. The guards were sober, and walking all around their post. I had wondered what was going on. I went into the General Merchantry, right next to the Inn. When inside, I bought some potions and clothes. I asked the keeper, a Nord, why the town was so dreary. He furrowed his brow.

"You don't know?" He said to me. I shook my head. "An order has come from the Count. The taxes have raised by a whole lot. That doesn't mean any good for me and my customers. And what's worse is that the Count fully supports it. He thinks that we Nords are all lowly peasants, and that if we whine about Skyrim, we should go back. Well, we were here first, and Falkreath is our town!"

"Falkreath." I said, nodding slowly. "Hmm. Certainly different from Falkrenth."

"Oh, call it whatever you like." He said. 'Bottom line is, we don't like being oppressed by this Province. We Nords, we've been here since the start. The Cyrodiils come in, prancing about with their head full of eyeballs, saying they own us. That we're their slaves. Well, no. I'm not going to have my back taxed off to support an Province that can't find it's own way to make money. Up until now, up until the Empire said so, we've been a part of Skyrim. Now I've got nothing against the Empire, but with Cyrodiil, it's outrageous. Can't Ocato see that we're fine on our own? Let us be part of our homeland! Let us be part of Skyrim!"

After a moment of silence, I spoke.

"So is that what everyone was shouting at the Count about last night?"

He looked up from his book.

"Huh? Yeah, I saw that. They were protesting about the taxes, like they should be doing. We need to do everything in our power to become part of what we used to be."

I nodded.

"Well," I said. "You're certainly, er... patriotic."

"Like oblivion I am." He said. "I don't feel comfortable telling you this, but erm..."

He leaned in closer, and I turned my head to hear him.

"We've got a secret movement going on." He whispered in my ear. "We're going to overthrow the Count and install an Earl."

My eyes widened.

"Promise not to tell anyone?" He pleaded. "This _can't_ go wrong."

I gave him a surprised stare.

"What in sixteen hells is an Earl?"

He laughed.

"Haha, thank you, my frend. An Earl, or a Jarl, is basically a count. What did you have in your home? I'm assuming you come from Dunmereth?"

"Yes," I replied. "Suran."

"And who ruled Suran?"

"House Redoran."

"A House? And who was the leader of that House?"

"Well, the House leader didn't rule the town. We had Councillor Evandius Telmaryn. He was from Anvil, so the Imperial first name wasn't strange."

"Okay. And did he basically control what happened in the town?"

"Pretty much. He was the most important person there."

"Well, there's your Jarl." He said. "Or Count."

It was at that moment I made a decision that would change my life forever.

"Is there any way I can help?" I asked.

I was met with an ear-to-ear grin.

"I knew you would be willing!" He exclaimed. "Follow me, I can show you our headquarters."

He got out from behind his stand and walked over to a mat in front of the fireplace. He lifted it, revealing a trapdoor with a latch.

"The entrance." He said, opening the latch. I heard sounds from below, quiet but noticeable.

There was a latter, and he started down.

"Come on," He said. "No harm coming from down here."

And so I followed him down the ladder, where we reached the basement. It wasn't too big, but was well lit. I could see the whole floor, and it was actually quite long. I could see people hunched over tables, strategizing. It was also there that I found my first Orc. I mean, like the Khajiit, I'd heard of them, but never actually seen them. The Orc was the first to greet us.

"Greetings, friend. I see you have with you a Dark Elf in company."

The Orc was certainly polite. He had long, black hair going down to his shoulders, and a big, knotted beard. He was gigantic, and had large teeth sticking out from his underbite, with pale green skin.

"Salutations, Orsimer." The Shopkeeper replied. "How's it going?"

"Not bad." He said. "Graydon's got a few plans for the attack."

"Run me through it." The Keeper said, walking towards the table holding the Orc. Sitting at it was a High Elf, or Altmer, tall with yellowish-green eyes and golden hair, matching his skin. There was also a Wood Elf, or Bosmer, short but noticeable. His skin was a dark pink, with dark brown hair, in an upswept fashion. Beside him was another Khajiit, similar to Jak, as in a Cathay. Sitting beside each other were two Nords, one with fiery red hair and a beard, and another bald with a long, scraggly brown beard. And at the head of the table was another human, which I could only assume to be a Breton.

"This is the gang." The shopkeeper said. "I'm Ylvie, first mate to Graydon here."

He pointed to the Breton. Graydon had wrinkles, and a whiff of grey hair. He looked very old and wise, yet had a youthful tone to him.

"To his left is Snorri, and his son Jaan. To their left is Dar'mak, then Dorian, and Volenar."

He pushed me towards them.

"Everyone, this is... what's your name?"

"Oronil." I said.

"Wait, wait wait." I said to the old mer. "Your name is _Oronil_?"

The old elf looked at me.

"Yes. Why?"

"As in, Oronil? The Oronil? Leader of the Falkreath Revolution?"

"Well," Oronil said. "I didn't know I was that famous."

"You're a very important political figure in Skyrim's history."

I had read up on Tamrielic History, and had always bought history books from the store when I could. The only province I had yet to read about was Hammerfell.

"Anyways, that's what happened." Oronil continued. "I helped with making Falkreath part of Skyrim. That's about it. Now, that meat was wonderful. Can I have your name?"

I told him my name, and told him that I must be off. He said goodbye and told me his address. He lived in Sheogorad now, a quite old life. I'm going to visit him again sometime, but I write this in a cornerclub in Balmora. I'll go shopping tomorrow.


End file.
